


Will You, Won't You?

by thelinksthatconnectus (orphan_account)



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Phantom Manor (Ride)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Drabble, F/M, One Shot, One-Sided Relationship, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:08:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thelinksthatconnectus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His words were to her ears what frosted cake was to her tongue. Melanie's eyes locked on his face, and it was with great effort that she forced them down to look to his outstretched hand.</p><p>"You do not have to wait any longer, not when everything you want is right in front of you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You, Won't You?

There was no longer any extra room for dust in the ancient chamber. From the tops of her dresser to the tops of window sills, dust lay thick and brown. Were she to try to wipe it off, she almost had to wonder if she would just find another layer of dirt beneath it. Her footsteps, light and thin, barely made an impression.

Had she been a few years younger then perhaps her cheeks would have gone aflame. The bed was too big for one and there was room for two inside. Even if she and her husband had gotten train tickets, there still would have been at least one night spend inside here.

The sheets, though covered in cobwebs, the fine silk forgotten, were still made, tucked in neatly. Pillows were fluffed and a spare blanket was even folded at the end of the bed. The small curtain that hung from the canopy was pulled back.

With a sigh, Melanie sat down. A cloud of dust rose, landing on her dress. Looking at it now, it was rather hard to believe that it had once been white. Some parts were browner than others, ranging from the color of sand to dark wood.

"Your father would kill you if he saw you in here."

Melanie froze, eyes locked to her feet.

My footsteps, she realized. As thin as they had been, there was only one other in the manor whose feet left an even lighter imprint.

"It is rather," he continued. Melanie looked up, her eyes locking with his for a moment before turning to thin arms. Were it not for the dark clothes that clung to his bony frame then perhaps he would appear to be even more wisp-like, just barely there.

Barely there, Melanie thought, crossing her arms over her chest, but still able to make his presence known.

"Is the party not enough for you?" Her voice was loud, filling the space between them. At least they were separate from one another by more than a few feet. "Can your devilish friends no longer entertain you? Or have you come to take even more from me?"

At first it had simply been the ballroom and dining hall, the floor and walls cracking, the sun never quite seeming to shine through the windows. Shadowy figures and monstrous creatures roamed the area, dancing and laughing, their cries and hollers easy to hear but easier to ignore. Back then there had been more than a handful of rooms to hide in and embrace the silence that was now becoming so scarce.

It was hard enough hearing herself sing, let alone think.

"That is not why I am here." Despite his figure, thin and contrasting heavily with the room, his voice was heavy and steady. Were he to simply fade into his shadows, his voice would remain, the only reminder that he was even there.

"Then what do you want?" Melanie sat up straight, moving her shoulders back. Her veil fluttered behind her. She tightened her fists and slowly stood, keeping her eyes on him as if he might vanish at any moment.

"Though I did need to get away from our guests," he said, turning slightly to his side towards the door that Melanie was sure she never closed, "I needed to ask you about something."

"What do you want from me? You have shown by now that you will take whatever you please, whether or not I approve."

"Then you will be happy to know that I do not have the power to force a conversation out of you." He stepped closer, his feet almost seeming to glide over the ancient oak wood. "You have shown by now just how stubborn you can be." His voice lowered. "In fact, it feels like a lifetime since we last had a chance."

"A true shame." Melanie scoffed.

He merely shook his head.

Melanie turned around and began walking to the furthest wall from the door. There were no doors and only a thin window that had been shut so long that it had probably forgotten how to open.

"So what brings you here today?" There was a laugh in his voice just barely suppressed. "Any special plans?"

Melanie stiffened, her back away from him. "You do not belong here."

"And what does a woman like you belong in here either? Dressing up like a bride does not change the fact that you never really were one."

Melanie's fists tightened, her balled hands whiter than her dress had ever been. "He was going to come and marry me. The whole place was ready for him." She closed her eyes. Her dress turned white again and great decorations hung from the ceilings and to the walls. The smell of cakes filled the airs and maids and servants scurried through the halls.

When she opened her eyes, the world was grey and brown. Were it not for her and the phantom then it would have been empty as well, a room waiting for guests that might never come.

"He could still return," Melanie said. She clutched her hands to her chest. "Edwin probably just got a bit busy. Once he is free, he will return and we can start planning for the wedding again."

"Again?" His voice seemed to ride across the room on an invisible wind. "Would you really go through all this trouble again? With your luck he would probably just leave you again. Why, your poor, frail heart probably would not be strong enough to survive that again."

"Why would he come back if he would just leave me again?"

"Oh, you know how men are. If they want to stay then they come and stay, but when they lose interest... Well, you will not find them around."

Melanie turned around and held her fingers out. Her white skin turned red and her eyes turned to slits. "You dare imply-"

"I am not implying anything." He moved forward, passing against the walls, the shadows moving with him. "As I mentioned earlier, I just want a conversation." Items slowly began to rise, knickknacks and paintings rising in his thin hands. His eyes, or at least the dark holes that perhaps once could have held them, surveyed them with the care of a jeweler looking at diamonds.

"Those objects cannot speak to you." Melanie sighed. Perhaps if she turned and walked away then he would leave her alone.

"I was just looking." He surveyed an old statue. Dust fell from it and between his fingers to the ground below. Not a single spec fell onto his black clothing.

"He was precious to you, was he not?" Before she could even open her mouth, he spoke again. "Oh yes, that Edwin was worth everything to you."

"Why does it matter to you?"

"It is just that this box certainly shows it."

Melanie froze, her eyes not quite on him but the space behind him. "What are you doing with that?" She stepped forward, her hands reaching out.

The day before her wedding had been hectic, servants everywhere and schedules tighter than her dress. It had been luck that had allowed her to sneak inside of the room, freshly prepared earlier that day by a maid for when the couple would use it later. The box, one of the first gifts that Edwin had given her, had been small, but easy enough to notice on the small table by the dresser.

When he opened it, a great cloud of dust fell away, leaving the surface so clear that one had to wonder if dust had ever touched it before. He opened it slowly, and it was only when the box was fully open that the gears began to move and music play.

It was a soft melody, simple but beautiful. It was short, replaying over and over. The small sculpted couple inside twirled around and around, their dance moving on forever. What joy it must take to be able to dance on and on even when the world around their feet crumbled, Melanie thought.

In her case, it seemed that years of dance lessons had been for naught.

"It is rather beautiful."

Melanie stopped just a few feet from him, her hands not reaching the box. Her words caught in her throat.

The couple continued to twirl, moving just the same way that they had when Edwin had first given her the box.

"That woman is you, is it not?" He pointed to the small female figurine.

The woman, dressed in a light blue dress that went well past her feet, was wrapped in the man's arm. Her pale face was hard to see, mostly hidden by the other figure and her head of thick, curly hair.

"I have thought of it before."

The other figure, taller and dressed in darker clothes, also had his face hidden. His hat was thick, his skin almost impossible to see. The figures seemed almost stuck together, completely locked against and melting into each other as they twirled around.

"That man does not look like the paintings you have of him."

"No, but that-"

"Maybe it is not him."

Melanie opened her mouth to continue what she had been saying, but then just as quickly closed it. "It does not have to be him; maybe they're just two random figures." Her voice shook slightly. "What does it matter to you?"

"It matters because it might represent someone else." The figures moved on continuously like clockwork, only stopping when his thin fingers finally closed the box. The ensuing silence was thicker than the room's heavy blanket of dust. "Do you wish to dance like that woman?"

"Yes." The words slipped out of her mouth easily, so easily that it was hard to believe that only a short while before he'd acted as though she was as stubborn as a mule. "Yes, I wish for that every day. There are a lot of things that I wish for, and maybe if I keep waiting then one day those wishes will finally get granted."

The pause was long, deathly silent with the music box closed. "You need not wait."

He seemed to move without effort, his face inches from her in only a few moments. "Why wait? You certainly have the initiative to find another. Why waste your time on someone who will never bother to come?"

His words were to her ears what frosted cake was to her tongue. Melanie's eyes locked on his face, and it was with great effort that she forced them down to look to his outstretched hand.

"You do not have to wait any longer, not when everything you want is right in front of you." Had he had lips then surely they would be set in a smile. The goosebumps that usually rose up and down Melanie's arms and neck whenever he was around vanished, a warmth slowly spreading through every inch of her body.

This wasn't the first time that a man, even one as ghastly and devilish as the phantom, had looked at her, though it had been quite some time since a man last had. And he never looked away from her, didn't fret over how her dress looked or that her hair was a mess.

She had never taken him for the dancing type, but she supposed that there was a lot of things that she probably did not know about him. The loud dances and monstrous beasts that filled the manor were only one side of him.

His hand, though bony and cold, held her own both firm and gently. Her chest was against his own, her face turned upwards.

"What point," he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, "is there in waiting?"

Melanie closed her eyes. Waiting certainly was not pleasant. Days melted into each other, each hour of every day the same as the one before. The only thing that really seemed to change was her dress, a mere shadow of the white silk that it had once been.

But, she realized, it was not the first time that she had waited. Two years and a few months had seemed to last forever, each day filled with the pain of the one before. Grief was a blanket that one could not pull off quickly, and perhaps she would have mourned longer. All those days dressed in black and standing beneath the hot sun, staring down at gravestones that were slowly chipped away by the weather had seemed endless as well. Her wedding could have been at any time, right for her choosing, were she to not postpone it.

The dead needed to be respected after all. Her father may have disapproved of Edwin, and what little could be done even then was in Melanie's hands alone.

Perhaps, wherever he was, he had understood.

This?

She herself could not decipher this puzzle, let alone could her father have.

Melanie pulled back, breaking away from him. "No, get away from me!"

"Melanie-"

"I said to get away from me!" She turned, stepping forward. If he would not step away then she supposed the task was up to her.

"Melanie!" The phantom repeated, his voice louder this time. His voice was what she imagined sandpaper would sound like.

"Leave me alone!" She clutched her hands together. All this waiting and a few words had nearly seduced her? The creatures really must have infested the house. "You do not belong here and you never have! Whatever you just tried to get from me you cannot have, and you never will get no matter how long you wait."

He reached a bony hand forward, just barely reaching Melanie's wrist yet not fast enough. Moving further away, she began to run as best she could. Walking down the aisle without tripping was hard enough.

"Go talk and dance with one of your ugly companions!" Melanie's voice was fire, heating her all over. "How you could even think that I would act like one of them is beyond me! Go and dance and talk with them, but leave me be."

How many times had she said something like this before? Her voice never had been this harsh, but she supposed that he had never acted quite like this before.

He thinks he can charm me like a snake, Melanie thought as she raced out the room and down the only free wing of the manor left. The sound of her shoes beating against the floor broke the usual silence.

Whatever he thought of her and who she was, unfaithful was not one of them.

When she reached the furthest room at the end of the wing and locked its door shut behind her, tears greeted her. No shortness of breath, no rapid beating of the heart, just tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

Perhaps if she wept long enough her dress would finally lose its brown shades.


End file.
